The Legend of Huma

Chapter 21

Huma gave the towering smith a confused look and said, “The what?”

“The Dragonlance. Are you at last the one?” The dwarven features pinched together in outright anxiousness. The smith’s eyes narrowed as he waited for a response and his thin, elven mouth was no more than a flat line across his mostly human face. That “other” gave him a frightening yet handsome appearance that was not common to any of the other three races.

“I have faced the challenges, or so I am told. That is what the gray man said.”

“The gray man said it, did he? Even ancient Wyrmfather?” The hulking figure did not wait for a response. “Yes, I suppose you did, for he has been rather quiet of late. It seems so strange not to hear his rantings and ravings anymore. I cannot recall a day when he was so quiet. I shall have to adjust, I suppose.” He shrugged.

“Have I answered your question to your satisfaction?” Though Huma’s confidence had not yet recovered, his dignity had. He did not want to appear overwhelmed.

“Indeed you have,” the smith whispered, more to himself than to the knight. “Indeed you have.”

The smith let out a strong, hearty laugh. “Great Reorx! Never did I think to see the day! At last, someone will be able to properly appreciate my handiwork. Do you know how long it has been since I’ve spoken to someone qualified?”

“What about them?” Huma pointed at the spectral figures behind the smith. They seemed unoffended.

“Them? They are my assistants. They have to like my work. They would not understand the true use of the Dragonlance as a knight would. Paladine, I’ve waited so long!” The huge man’s voice echoed through the chambers.

“I forget myself.” The smith’s voice faded abruptly, and his face became dour. Huma noted that the other’s mood changes were as abrupt as his features were unique. “I am Duncan Ironweaver, master smith, armorer, and student of Reorx himself. I have waited far longer than I wish to remember for your coming. For many a year, I worried that you might never set foot near here, but I should have known better.” Duncan Ironweaver reached out a hand to Huma, who took it without thinking and found himself grasping warm metal.

The smith noticed him staring at the device and grinned. “Wyrmfather himself took my arm years ago, when I was a foolish young man. Though it pained me, I have never regretted its loss. This works so much better that I have often wondered what it might be to have an entire forged body.” He seemed to consider this for several seconds before realizing he had drifted from his subject. “Of course, without the silver arm, I would lack the strength and resistance necessary to forge the great dragonsilver into a finely crafted Dragonlance.”

Again, the Dragonlance. “What is the Dragonlance? If it is what I have come for, can I see it?”

Ironweaver blinked. “I’ve not shown you?” He put a hand to his head, unheedful of the soot spread on both. “Of course not! My mind is addled. Come then. Follow me, and we shall gaze together on a wonder that encompasses more than my simple skills and your daring.”

The smith turned and wound a path into the darkest depths of the chamber. The four shadowy assistants made way for their master and the knight. The helpers seemed to melt into the darkness itself by the time Huma was near enough, and the only things he could glimpse were four pairs of eyes that seemed to stare straight through him.

Several yards ahead of him, Ironweaver was whistling a tune that vaguely resembled a Solamnic marching song. That made Huma relax a little, though he did wonder just what connection the smith had with the Knights of Solamnia and how far back it went. By this point, the knight would not have been surprised if he had awakened back at Vingaard Keep and discovered that all of this was a dream.

They came to another door, and the huge smith stopped and turned to Huma. “Beyond that door, only you will go. I have much work to get back to. Another will lead you back to the outside world and your friends.”

Friends? How did Duncan Ironweaver know about Kaz -and Magius? “And the Dragonlance?”

“You will know it when you see it, my little friend.”

“Where do—?” Huma started to ask something else but stopped abruptly when he found himself talking to air. He quickly turned back in the direction they had come, but the smithy itself was no longer visible. Only darkness. Huma took a few tentative steps in that direction and then retreated in disgust as his face came in contact with a spider’s web of incredible size and thickness.

He spat the foul substance from his mouth and examined the web. It was old, the culmination of generations and generations. Dust lay thick on its surface. Here and there, it connected to rusting implements, swords, old metalworking equipment—things forgotten by their creators and users since long before Huma had been born.

But he had just come that way.

An uneasy thought intruded; what spider would need a web so great?

His eyes still on the web, Huma reached a hand out toward the door. The handle, a long, jagged one rusted with age, would cooperate only after a struggle. At last the door opened, unleashing a cloud of dust. Slowly, and with great reverence, Huma stepped into the room of the Dragonlance.

He saw a charging stallion, armored in purest platinum and snorting fire as it raced the winds. He saw the rider then, a knight bold and ready, the great lance poised to strike. The knight also was clad in platinum, and the crest on his helmet was that of a majestic dragon. On his chest he wore a breastplate with the symbol of the Triumvirate: the Crown, the Sword, and the Rose.

Within the visor that covered the face was light, brilliant and life-giving, and Huma knew that here was Paladine.

The great charger suddenly leaped into the air, and massive wings sprouted from its sides. Its head elongated, and its neck twisted and grew, but it lost none of its majesty or beauty. From a platinum-clad steed it became a platinum dragon, and together knight and companion drove the darkness before them with the aid of the lance ... the Dragonlance. It shone with a life, a purpose of its own, and the darkness fell before it. Born of the world and the heavens, it was the true power, the true good.

The darkness destroyed, the dragon landed before Huma, who could only fall to his knees. The knight released the Dragonlance from its harness and held it toward the mortal figure below him. With some hesitation, Huma slowly rose and stepped forward. He reached out and took the lance by its shaft. Then the dragon and its rider were gone, leaving Huma alone with the wondrous gift.

He held it high and cried out in joy.

Sweat drenched him. Nearly all energy had been drained from his body, but Huma did not mind, for it was the exhaustion felt after the joyous exhilaration of achieving one’s dreams. There would never be another rapture like it in his life, he knew.

He lay on the floor of the room, bathed in white, pure light. Rising to his knees, Huma gazed at the light and was awed.

Above him, life-size, stood the dragon. Its eyes gazed down upon the mortal, and it seemed to have just landed. It had been formed from pure platinum and sculpted by an artisan whose skills must have rivaled the gods. The wings were outspread, stretching far across the room, and Huma was amazed that the metal could stand the strain. Each scale of the dragon, from the largest to the smallest, had been finely wrought in detail. Had it breathed, Huma would not have been surprised, it was so lifelike.

The rider, too, might have been ready to leap off his companion of the skies, so real did he appear. Like the dragon, his gaze seemed to be on Huma, though it was difficult to tell; the visor was down. The armor was as accurate in every detail as the dragon’s skin, and Huma could see every joint, every link, and even the detail of the scrollwork on the breastplate.

What had lit up the room was the Dragonlance.

Long, sleek, narrow, the lance would have stood almost three times the knight’s height. The tip seemed to taper off to a point so sharp that nothing would bar its path. Behind the head, nearly two feet from the tip, sharp barbs arose on each side, assuring that any strike would be costly to the foe.

The back end of the lance ended with an elaborate shield guard formed into the fearsome visage of an attacking dragon with the shaft emerging like a river of flame from the leviathan’s maw. Behind the guard, the platinum knight’s arm steadied the lance for battle.

Huma felt unworthy to take the Dragonlance from the knight, so perfect was it. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and moved to it, climbing to undo it from the harness that held it in place on the saddle. The post of the harness pivoted, allowing Huma some flexibility, but he was unsure how to remove the metallic knight’s hand from the weapon. As he touched the fingers, they seemed to loosen of their own regard and the lance nearly fell into Huma’s waiting arms.

The Dragonlance was heavy, as was to be expected, but Huma did not care about that now. He was overwhelmed that this had come to him, the least of knights. That Paladine should so bless him was a miracle in itself and, when he had brought the lance to earth, he went to his knees and gave thanks. The Dragonlance seemed to glow even brighter.

When at last his initial awe had passed, he noted the other lances that decorated the walls around him. That he had somehow missed them perplexed him, but he gave thanks that again Paladine had foreseen things, for one lance certainly would not be enough. He counted twenty total, nineteen like his own and one smaller one that was no less brilliant and must, he decided, be for footsoldiers.

One by one, he removed the lances from their resting places, taking each into his hands with reverence. Here were tools with which Krynn could be rid of the Dragonqueen; there should be no end of volunteers.

Oddly, there seemed to be no other exit than the doorway he had come through earlier. Huma wondered how he was going to get the lances out of the mountain and back to Solamnia. Had he come this far to fail because of an obstruction so relatively minor?

Gazing around the chamber, his eyes fell upon the figure of the mounted knight. It was looking slightly off to the side and upward—as if it sought something near one of the far corners of the ceiling. So intense was the image that Huma could not help but turn and look the same direction.

He saw nothing at first. Then, Huma spied the nearly invisible outline of a trap door. Hurrying over to investigate, the knight discovered hand and footholds in the wall below the trap door. They were only indentations, impossible to make out unless one stood directly in front of them.

Huma turned and stared anxiously at the lances he had gathered together. He hated leaving them here, but he knew that he required assistance if he was to get even one of them out of this chamber. He needed Kaz and Magius.

Gingerly, he began his climb. It was not as difficult as he had expected and he was soon near the ceiling. Opening the door, however, proved to be difficult, for Huma was forced to lean back precariously in order to push properly. The muscles strained in the hand that held him back from a deadly plunge. Huma had been forced to remove his gauntlets for a better grip and now was paying for that as the skin slowly tore from his fingertips.

When the door was finally open, he let out a sigh of relief. Whoever had designed this had purposely made it difficult for reasons Huma doubted he could ever guess. Still, what mattered was that the way out was now open.

He reached up and felt a cool breeze dance through his fingers. Moving his hand around he discovered that something soft, perhaps snow, covered the ground. Gripping the sides of the hole, Huma pulled himself upward.

It was daylight. No rain. No cloud cover. The sun lit the mountainside, and Huma hung there, suspended halfway in the ground, as he drank in the view. How long had it been since he had really seen the sun? Huma could no longer remember. It was a magnificent sight and a sign, perhaps, that the tide had turned at last.

A thin layer of snow did indeed cover the ground. There were no tracks in the snow around him, so he was alone unless something flew above him. The skies were clear, though. Clear and blue. He had forgotten the heavens were blue.

Huma pulled himself from the unseen hole and then took care to study the site. The knight located a large rock nearby and placed it near the hole as a marker.

“I hoped you would succeed; I prayed you would succeed. Had you not, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Gwyneth!” The name burst from his lips even as he whirled.

She was clad in a simple cloak of silver hue, her hair fluttering. The young woman who had seen to his recovery in the tent looked nothing like this stately—priestess? What was her part in all this?

“I have indeed succeeded, Gwyneth! Below our very feet lay the weapons that will rid this world of the Dragonqueen!”

She smiled at his enthusiasm and stepped forward. Her feet seemed to barely touch the snowy ground, and Huma noted then that she left no trace of any path.

“Tell me about it.”

He tried to, how he tried to, but the words that tumbled from his mouth were too weak, too complicated, too simple for what he was trying to describe. It all sounded so improbable as he related his quest to Gwyneth. Had he really undergone all that? How had the ancient terror called Wyrmfather been turned into a gleaming metal artifact several times the size of the knight? Had the vision in the chamber of the Dragonlance been real or the product of his own delusion?

Gwyneth took it all in, her face impassive save for an unidentifiable look in her eyes as she observed Huma. When he was finished, she nodded sagely and said, “From the moment I first saw you, I saw greatness. I saw in you what so many others before you did not have. You truly care about the folk of Krynn. That is where the others have failed. They cared, but it was little compared to their personal ambitions.”

Huma took her by the arms and held her. “Will you vanish now, like the gray man and the smith?”

“I will, for a time. You must locate your companions. When you return, another will be waiting for you. One whom you have met and who will be of aid in the coming days.”

“And Kaz and Magius?”

“Near.” She smiled. “I am surprised that they have tolerated one another this long.”

“I must find them,” Huma decided suddenly. There was so much to be done. He hated to leave Gwyneth, even though they would meet again. Wouldn’t they?

An uneasy look came into her eyes, and she squirmed free from his grasp. The smile was still in place, but it grew weaker, more of a mask or defense. “Your friends are that way.” She pointed to the east. “You had best go to them now. They are becoming anxious for you.”

She turned from him and stepped quickly and lightly away. Huma almost followed, but he cared enough for her to respect her wishes in this matter. That he might never see her again tore at him, but he let her go and turned his back.

Eastward, Huma made his way through the soft snow. The cloud cover, fie noticed, had not dispersed. It merely avoided this peak.

He had walked for no more than ten minutes when he heard the voice. There was no mistaking it. It was Kaz, angered. The knight’s pace picked up. Only one person would anger the minotaur so.

“If only I had done what I had desired and ended your miserable existence there and then. You have no honor, no conscience.” The minotaur stood tall. His fists emphasized each point as he battered the air as if it were the object of his reprimand.

Magius sat with odd quietude on a large rock, his head in his hands, unmoving, as the minotaur continued to berate him. Huma tensed as he stepped toward the pair.

It was Magius who sensed his approach. The mage’s face was pale and drawn, his hair radiating wildly about his head. His eyes had sunken in. They widened as he raised his head, and his numbed mind finally recognized the figure of his only friend.

“Huma!”

“What?” Kaz jumped at the sudden shout. He saw the direction of the magic-user’s gaze and turned. The blood-red look in his eyes vanished, and a toothy grin appeared on his bovine face. The anger of a moment before was temporarily forgotten. “Huma!”

As the minotaur stepped forward, Magius seemed to curl into himself. The mage stared pitifully in Huma’s direction, but made no move to join Kaz in greeting their lost comrade.

The minotaur almost crushed Huma in a bear hug. Kaz looked down at him, smiling all the time, then suddenly lifted the hapless knight off the ground and spun him around. Huma felt like an infant in the hands of the huge man-beast.

“Where have you been? I sought you out, but could not find the path you had taken. I searched again and again calling to you, but only the wind and that infernal cry responded. Sarg—Gods! I finally thought you were dead.” He put Huma down. Kaz turned on Magius, who stepped back as if struck. “When I told that one what had happened, he fairly shouted with glee at first.”

“WHAT?” Huma gazed over at Magius. His childhood friend would not look at him.

Kaz thrust a finger at the knight. “Do you know why you were so important to him? It was not your friendship. It was not your skills. His mad vision had convinced him that there was indeed a gift from Paladine somewhere here but that he would die if he tried to claim it. So he intended to send you in his place. You would have taken the attack that would have killed him! Your life was expendable!” The angry warrior laughed coldly. “Can you believe it? He claimed a knight in sun-drenched armor and bearing a lance of incredible power would run him through; did you ever hear such nonsense?

“When he thought you were dead, he believed the vision had been altered forever. He was confident that he would almost immediately find this great secret and live to use it in your memory and his glory.”

Kaz paused to catch his breath, and Huma chose that moment to step around the minotaur and confront Magius. The mage looked up at him, almost fearfully, and moved back a step. Huma reached out a hand, but Magius refused to take it.

The minotaur came up behind Huma. “When we found no path or cavern, he started to fall apart. I could have never believed this one could have a conscience. I suppose I helped, for I reminded him every hour of every day about what he had done. How you had talked of him as a good friend.”

Huma leaned down. His voice was soft. “Magius. There is nothing to be fearful of. I do not hate you for what you did. That was not you; it was never you.”

The shadow of the minotaur covered them both. Magius turned away.

“What are you saying, Huma?” the minotaur demanded. “This one betrayed you, had planned on betraying you since before you and I met. All for some utter, senseless madness!”

“You weren’t there!” Huma snapped. “I’ve heard tales of how real the Tests are. Sometimes they exist only in the mind; sometimes they are completely and terribly existent. In either case, the magic-user who is being tested can die.”

“Magius,” Huma whispered to his conscience-stricken friend. The spellcaster seemed to be on the edge of collapse. It must have seemed that the knight’s ghost had come back to haunt the one who had betrayed him. “Magius. Forget the vision. You were right about the mountain. I’ve found what we were searching for!”

The mage’s eyes widened and narrowed, then he began to calm down. “You found it?”

“I did. I faced the challenges in the mountain and passed.”

“What’s that you’re talking about?” roared Kaz. “What challenges?”

Huma briefly described what had taken place within the mountain. The story of Wyrmfather brought a strange light to the eyes of Magius, who, stuttering, confessed he had made a study of the design of the statuette years before, only to come up with nothing more than a few scraps of legend. The treachery of Rennard shook both listeners. Magius had grown up with Huma and often had wondered about the knight’s father.

“By my ancestors twenty-five generations back! Would that I had been there when you fought the father of all dragons. Such a battle, and I missed it!” The minotaur shook his head.

The knight grimaced. “It was more a battle for survival than anything else. Luck had much to do with it.”

“I think not. I do not see luck as a factor in these challenges. How many would have taken such action? How many would have run or stood trembling before the dragon? Many minotaurs would have thought it folly.”

Magius tugged at Huma’s arm, almost as a small child might do. “The Dragonlance? You have it with you? I have to see it!”

A solid, clawed fist materialized before the spellcaster’s face. “You’ll see nothing!”

Huma dared the minotaur’s wrath by pushing the fist down. Kaz glared at Huma, then forced himself under control.

“That is what I need your help for now,” Huma told them both. “Another person may be waiting to aid us, but I’ll need your help to pull the lances from the chamber. All but one are more than twice your height, Kaz. It will be difficult.”

“We shall do it, though, and this vermin here will help.”

Magius paled, but he stood his ground. “I will do every bit as much work as you—most likely more.”

The wind whipped the minotaur’s mane around his face, giving him a particularly wild look. “That remains to be seen, mage.”

“Enough!” Huma shouted. He would drag the lances out himself if need be. “If you are coming, do so, or stay here and let the snows eventually cover you!”

He stalked away. A moment later, the other two followed quickly and without comment.

He had marked the spot as well as he could. The rock was where he had left it and he stepped over it and reached down. Kaz and Magius looked on in curiosity, especially when Huma’s hand found only hard earth and not the hole that should have been there.

“What’s the matter?” Kaz asked.

“I can’t find it! I can’t find it!”

The others fell to their knees and began searching the ground.

“There is no need to search further,” a voice suddenly said. “The Dragonlances are safe and ready for their journey out into the world.”

The voice came from above them. A great wind buffeted the trio, forcing them to step back. The voice apologized and the great wings slowed as the majestic dragon came to stop on a nearby outcropping.

“I heard the summons,” said the same silver dragon who had given aid to Huma and Kaz, what seemed so long ago. “The lances are ready, awaiting us in a safe place.” She gazed—fondly?—at the knight. “The next step in their journey, Huma, is up to you.”